Grey Eyes
by CaptainScorose
Summary: Obsession, he thinks, is not so much a compulsion but rather an addiction. Obsession wants. And all Scorpius Malfoy wants is pretty, unsuspecting Rose Weasley at his every beck and call...


**I'm aware it's been a month and something weeks since I've updated, and it's my own laziness that's postponed this update. Please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling:)**

* * *

Obsession, he thinks, is not so much a compulsion but rather an addiction. It is not forced; it is required. It is not incidental; it is necessary. It is not careless; it is diligent. It occupies not only the mind, but engages the body to rhapsodies of that which it craves. It burns as it freezes, thaws as it stills. It leaves traces but cannot be seen, cannot be caught, cannot be touched -

He wanted to touch her. He wanted to tangle his fingers in her auburn waves. He wanted to mold his mouth over her lips. He wanted to bury his head into the curve of her throat when she cried for that sweet release, canting her hips while he reciprocated in each thrust -

Obsession _wants_. He had never wanted anything more than the girl sitting across the room, laughing with her friends and her boyfriend. Skin dark from sun, raven hair styled nonchalant yet purposeful, eyes crinkled in mirth and adoration.

He wanted to know the joke. He wanted to tuck that stray curl behind her ear. He wanted to trade places. And he very well could. He would.

His obsession helped him formulate a plan. She would not want anyone else but him. How though? Polyjuice Potion, though a specialty of his, lasted only an hour. He must not be limited by time. He would not use the Imperius Curse - the temptation was great, but she must coerce herself into wanting him. There was the option to use it on her boyfriend, to shove them apart. But she would be heartbroken, and he was not here to take pity on her, and cradle her in his arms. He wanted only to satisfy himself, that urge building within him.

He would not resort to Unforgivables - at least for now. He must have his way with her, without her boyfriend knowing.

He jolted from his bed with a start, an idea loosely constructed that would eradicate his infatuation with her once and for all.

* * *

The halls were always crowded, traffic uncoordinated for students to pack closely with friends lest they bump into professors, doors, and other obstacles blocking their path. Scorpius Malfoy had no trouble maneuvering though the masses, gliding past the ghosts and making sharp turns until he had approached his destination.

He stood outside the door, waiting for Rose Weasley to hurry down the corridor. In thirty seconds, she did just that, huffing a little as she bade farewell to a friend and headed to the Charms classroom.

Just as she was about to round the corner, she spotted him, and that was his cue. "Weasley," he called, and her eyebrows jumped at the sound of her name.

"Malfoy," she replied easily, though he caught a hint of suspicion. As seventh years, they were in many of the same classes, though never in close communication. "Did you need something?"

Her Head Girl badge caught the light from a nearby window. _Want was more like it._ "You left something behind in Potions yesterday."

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Did I? What was it?"

He reached into his book bag, rummaging for an object that was not there. "Hold on, I've got it in here somewhere…"

An expression of annoyance was growing on her face, and he could tell she was impatient to get to class. "Can't you give it to me in Charms?"

He held up a hand placatingly. "Unless you want Oddpick thinking we're passing notes, it's best if I give it to you now."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, just hurry up please."

Scorpius feigned exasperation and opened the door to an empty classroom, setting his bag down on a desk. Rose silently closed the door with a click and he sprang on her before she had a chance to make a shield.

"Petrificus Totalus," he said softly, and for all his intent, her limbs locked together and she fell back like a log. He stood over her immobilized body, taking in the sharp glare of her blue eyes, widened by both badly repressed fear and defiance.

Scorpius smirked, levitating her book bag to his desk. Her red hair fanned out against the floor like a spill of blood, the sight strangely calming for what he was about to do. "McGonagall made you Head Girl for a reason, _Rose_." The sound of her name rested in the air like a sibilant echo. "Comply, and you can leave."

The narrowing of her blue eyes clearly indicated she would be resisting. He levitated her body so she was floating upright, and pushed her slightly against the wall. With a wordless _Finite Incantatem,_ the spell began to wear off and she was able to move her face.

"The fact is, and remains, that you are not in a position for bargaining." She struggled to move her arms and legs, only looking up to spit at him.

"Fuck you."

"Had I realized that was what Prefect punishment entailed, I would be getting in trouble more often." Her cheeks grew slightly red at the implication.

"Just get this over with," she snarled.

"Good girl," he replied with a smirk, and his mouth descended on hers, drawing her slowly to him.

Seeing as she had no other option than to participate, Rose moved her lips against his. She did not want to seem eager for his ministrations, but realized that she could report him for sexual assault and have him hopefully suspended.

She broke away from the kiss, breathing hard. "Do you really think you can get away with this?"

He held her gaze, grey eyes darkened with lust. "Of course. _Obliviate_." With a twisting motion reserved for opening doors, Scorpius' wand latched onto Rose Weasley's train of thought. Instantly, her eyes glazed over, and any autonomy she possessed at that moment was suspended in a precarious paralysis.

The last few minutes of their interaction would be erased from her memory, and she would head to class without suspecting a thing. The tricky part of implanting a false memory could potentially be damaging to her mental health, but his rewards outweighed whatever risk it brought her.

When she came to, Rose felt her head throb slightly. Her eyes focused on the other occupant of the room. "...Malfoy?" She looked around. "Why are we here? Shouldn't we be going to Charms?"

Scorpius nodded and handed over her book bag, initials sewn in red thread. R.W. "Your bag ripped and all your books fell out. I helped you fix it. Remember?"

She blinked at him, gaze drifting to her bag. "Oh right! I remember. Shall we get going then?"

"Probably. I hope we haven't missed anything." He held the door open for her, and she passed through, walking ahead of him.

As they took their respective seats in Charms, Professor Oddpick merely looked disappointed at their tardiness and continued his lecture. Scorpius' attentiveness wavered as the former droned on about conjuring birds.

His goal, somewhere in the near future, would be to completely erase the memories of her having a boyfriend. She would be Scorpius' puppet, for his play only. Starting small with a kiss and inducing false memories would ensure she never slipped up, seeing as she would forget the kiss in the first place. He could then work his way to feeling her up, seeing what was beneath the white blouse and black skirt. His imagination could only go so far.

He smirked, looking out the window. Maybe he wouldn't even need to erase the memories of her boyfriend. All his transgressions would be gone anyway. He simply needed to coax his unwilling participant, and await the pleasures felt in his fantasies. No harm done.

* * *

He sought Rose in moments of arousal. In Potions, when the steam of Pepperup Potion spritzed through the air, and lightly coated her neck, he waited after class and lured her to an alcove. In Arithmancy, when she handed in her test and proceeded to nap, her red curls falling tantalizingly over the desk, he set off a Decoy Detonator which led her to his clutches behind a tapestry. And when it seemed that she would no longer follow his trail of breadcrumbs, he took to enlisting a trigger that would bring her to him.

According to a very helpful manual found in the Restricted Section - courtesy of some foolish Aurors from the early 1900s avoiding Ministry interrogation - a trigger would signal her brain into realizing her services were required. With the assistance of Grandfather Lucius through owl correspondence, he would be able to engender a telepathic communication almost reminiscent of the Imperius Curse.

**Simply mutter the words, **_dedere animum tuum_**, and you will have temporary control of the victim's thoughts once the trigger is activated.**

But what trigger could possibly render her senseless? Scorpius thought long and hard the next few days, postponing work to think of something simple that would catch her attention.

The following morning, he came to Transfiguration early to catch her alone. Professor Denbright was still preparing materials at his desk, and had his back turned to the students entering the room.

Scorpius decided to act as soon as she walked in, thankfully alone, and caught her eye as it swept over the room._ Dedere animum tuum_, he thought, holding her gaze sharply. He could almost feel the shiver running down her spine as soon as the words were unspoken.

She paused at her desk, still maintaining eye contact with him. _Meet me in the broom closet across the hall as soon as class is over. Tell your friends you are using the bathroom_. She gave an imperceptible nod and, no sooner than she had looked away, the enchantment was broken and Rose resumed her normal personality.

True to her word, she was waiting for him. One of the benefits of the enchantment was her now docile expression. Rose seemed to have no qualms about being caught in the cupboard, if any at all. She remained mostly motionless while he made quick work of her robes, stripping her down to undergarments.

Scorpius was in no mood to admire her lingerie, though he made a mental note for her to wear this flimsy lace later. He smirked. Maybe no knickers at all.

He fingered her to release, then ordered her down on all fours to take care of his throbbing erection. His cock sprang free of his boxers, and with gentle hands she stroked the length of him, swirling her tongue over his tip before taking him in her mouth. She sucked him deep and hard into her mouth until he came, and under his instructions, drank every last drop.

Rose dressed silently, and faced him while he Obliviated her. She left the room with no recollection of the act and continued to Herbology, apologizing to Longbottom for her lateness.

Scorpius did not face the same issue of a teacher's concerns for his whereabouts; he had a free period to spend wanking, using a Pensieve to return to the feel of her teeth and tongue and lovely lips dancing on his engorged member.

Truthfully, he supposed he did not have to delete the memories from her brain, given that his grandfather's spell would leave her unable to report him. And yet, the satisfaction of her developing erratic tendencies from contradicting memories and experiences never completed, spiralling rapidly to confusion leaving her all the more pretty and of service to him…

He chuckled, zipping up his trousers and heading to the Great Hall for lunch.

* * *

Their encounters were soon a daily occurrence. He could vent his frustrations with every thrust in her slick folds, tugging her red hair into knots while he bit into her shoulder. Her euphoric cries only goaded his satyriasis, whether it was his mouth at her breasts, his tongue descending to her cunt, or pounding into her against whatever available surface he could find.

It fueled his obsession like no other, the breathy pants and whimpers, the groans and grunts and melodic murmurs when her naked body rolled off his and in that trance, right her appearance to continue on with her day.

Sometimes he made her miss class, finding his uncontrollable desires a priority over her punctuality. She needed to suffer for him, needed to want him as he wanted her.

* * *

_Growing up, Rose was endlessly curious. _

_At eight months old, her first word was neither "mama" nor "dada", but "why?" She wanted to know why she had to take a bath. She wanted to know why she had to eat lunch. She wanted to know why the dishes cleaned themselves and funny-looking birds brought them the mail. _

_Her parents did their best to answer the flood of questions escaping their daughter's mind. _

"_You have to take a bath so you stay clean, Rosie Posie." _

"_You have to eat your veggies so you grow big and strong like Mummy." _

"_The dishes are so smart they learned how to use soap and water to take a bath, just like you!" _

"_The big birdies are called owls, and they control all the mail in the world."_

_Rose wanted to know everything. It was her own little obsession, being able to proudly state that she knew what a lamp was, or how to work the toaster, bossing around her Granger grandparents whenever she and Hugo visited. _

_When she was enrolled at a Muggle school for reception, she maintained that pride in learning songs to help her remember colors, numbers, and the alphabet. _

_Rose would stand on the coffee table in the living room and make her parents and younger brother sit on the sofa so she could put on little performances for them and sing what she had been taught that day. "Red-orange-yellow, green-blue-purple, red-orange-yellow, green-blue-purple, red-orange-yellow, green-blue-purple, those are the colors of the rainbow!" _

_They clapped to share her eager enthusiasm while she took a bow, and her father even conjured pink and white roses from his wand to present as a bouquet. _

"_Daddy, why isn't pink and white in the rainbow?" Rose had asked, holding the flowers as though she were giving an acceptance speech for an award. _

"_Er - I dunno, Rosie. I suppose they didn't have enough room for pink and white in the rainbow. Stiff competition, you know." _

"_What about black and brown and silver and gold? Silver and gold are all sparkly, shouldn't they be in the rainbow too?" _

_Ron seemed to be drawing blanks in how best to explain the natural phenomenon. "It's like I told you, they only let certain colors in at a time. Silver and gold are very busy. They've got to make jewelry and picture frames and watches, so they couldn't join the rainbow. That's a full-time job." _

"_Who puts all the colors in the rainbow, Daddy?" _

"_A wizard by the name of Sir Roy G. Biv. He's got to make all the rainbows in the world, so he travels by cloud. When no one is looking, he puts them there and then he leaves, quick as a flash." He punctuated this statement by tickling Rose at her ribs, making her giggle and drop all the roses. _

"_He has to be really fast so no one sees him, so that's why he can't put more colors in the rainbow? Because it would take a lot of time?" Ron confirmed this theory with a nod. "Does he use an Invisibility Cloak like Uncle Harry?" _

_Her father scratched his head and conceded to another affirmation. "Sometimes. But Sir Roy G. Biv is too busy making rainbows to go to the shop and buy a cloak." _

"_What if we let Sir Roy G. Biv borrow Uncle Harry's cloak? Then he could add more colors to the rainbow, and no one would see him!" Ron laughed and ruffled his daughter's hair. _

"_Now it's time to go to bed, so you'll have to ask him tomorrow." Ron quickly dashed into the kitchen to stuff the bouquet into a colander, and returned to the bottom of the stairwell where Rose appeared to be arguing with Hugo. _

"_We can't Floo-call Uncle Harry at work, Hugo. He doesn't sit in front of the fire all day." Hugo was three years old, but had seemingly picked up Hermione's habit of looking disapprovingly at people while she formed a rebuttal. _

"_But Wosie, Sir Robee Giv can't see no one!" _

"_No, he can see people. But they can't see him, otherwise -" She blinked repeatedly. "Otherwise what will happen if people see him, Daddy?" _

_Ron waited patiently for the both of them to run ahead of him up the stairs, and held his arms out to carry them both on either side. Although Hugo still slept with Hermione and him in the downstairs bedroom, he liked to be there when Rose brushed her teeth and got ready for bed. _

_With a grunt, Ron walked the rest of the way upstairs and deposited Rose at the bathroom. "Otherwise, Sir Roy G. Biv will get in trouble with the police. Then they'll take him to jail," Ron explained, having grown accustomed to all the Muggle counterparts for words he knew only as 'Auror' and 'Azkaban'. _

"_Yeah Wosie!" Hugo chimed in. "He will go to jail!" _

_Rose was stumped for a moment. Then, her blue eyes lit up. "Can we send him a letter then? With Josephine?" Josephine was the barn owl they had recently bought from Eeylops Owl Emporium because Pigwidgeon would no longer answer to Ron or Hermione when they needed to send mail; Ginny seemed to be the only Weasley that could control his unpredictable excitability. _

"_Yes yes Feen!" Hugo shouted, unable to properly pronounce words longer than two syllables. _

"_You'll have to get up very early," Ron reasoned, supervising while Rose squeezed some aquamarine-coloured toothpaste onto her red plastic brush. "Uncle Harry needs to be at work at 8 o'clock. That means he has breakfast and gets his mail at 7:30. That means you need to write the letter at 7:00 so Josephine can give it to him. That means you have to wake up at 6:30. Can you do that?" _

_Rose puffed out her chest with confidence. "Okay. I'm going to tell Uncle Harry that he needs to let Sir Roy G. Biv borrow the cloak so he can add more colors to the rainbow and won't be seen." She opened her mouth so she could brush her teeth just like Nana and Grandpa Granger showed her at the dentist appointment last week. _

"_You'll have to send an owl to Sir Roy G. Biv and tell him what colors you want in the rainbow." Rose spat into the sink and rinsed her mouth, wiping it sloppily on the towel while Ron and Hugo followed her into the bedroom. _

"_I want hot pink, light pink, neon pink, neon red, neon orange, neon yellow, neon green, neon blue, neon purple, black, brown, silver, gold, grey-" _

Grey.

Her world had become convoluted and diluted with grey, saturated with grey, was bleak with grey. She had slowly started drifting down a river of grey, floating through grey mist beneath a grey sky where the clouds were grey.

It was all she could think about.

Striking, lightning grey.

Where had she seen it? It pressed against her eyelids when she sat in class, so vivid and clear and always there. Grey classroom, grey cauldron, grey robes, grey windows, grey brooms, grey fires, grey wand.

The red of her hair and blue of her eyes and yellow of the sun and green of the grass had suddenly bleached itself grey, and she didn't know why.

Why? Why did she feel like she was under the scrutiny of a security camera in a department store, why did her head thrum like a persistent percussion beat, why did she wake in her bed with a thin sheen of sweat on her body, living through fantasies that would make even a prude blush? Why did she bathe to find bruises at her hips, and her lower body sore? Why did her cloak smell like men's cologne? Why was her hair so knotted and tangled, despite brushing it thoroughly every morning?

Or did she? She had suddenly begun to doubt the simplest of things, tuning out of lectures and discussions, focusing on the corner of the tiled floor and watching as everything leeched to grey.

Rose was sure it was just a slump; surely all seventh years had those with N.E.W.T.s approaching.

Her fellow Head, Lorcan Scamander, seemed more worried about her well-being than a few tests, and had foregone patrols one night in search of Draught of Peace. "Mum says it remedies anxious thoughts, and I think that's why you've been so… harried lately."

As the son of the somewhat eccentric Luna Lovegood, Lorcan had perceived the idea of Nargles and Blibbering Humdingers as manifestations of violent thoughts, caring deeply for his housemates' mental welfare when it came to exams and the stress it brought. It was no wonder he had made Head Boy; he exhibited such kindness and compassion that anything he did was exemplary to the younger students.

Rose was relieved to both be his friend and have someone fuss over her without pressuring her.

They took a sharp turn left to the infirmary, where Madam Bones was tending to a young girl, wrapping a bandage around her knee. The former looked up as they walked in, Lorcan steering her about the room with his hands on her shoulders. "You don't have to tell me, Mister Scamander. Another Draught of Peace?"

"You said I wouldn't have to tell you, Matron." There was a teasing smile on his face that Rose found rather endearing, though looking into his eyes brought back that flash of grey.

Susan Bones laughed softly and summoned a flask with a flick of her wand.

The two Heads occupied a bed, Rose nearly sitting on his lap with how tired and perplexed she was.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable, Rose. If Keegan saw you like this I think he'd have my head."

Rose managed a weak smile. She couldn't bring herself to do anything more, at least not with a splitting headache.

"Here we are," the Matron said, supplying them with the potion and two cups. Lorcan set aside the cup obviously meant for him and measured the right amount to fill up Rose's cup.

"None for you then, Mister Scamander?"

Lorcan shook his head, and gestured at Rose to drink. "I am stressed for exams, but I don't want to keep relying on potions. I'm not trying to call you out, Rose, I just think I need to manage my time better so I can relax and try to simulate some sort of peace, rather than get it from a potion."

"That goes for you too, Miss Weasley. You work yourself too hard and you might add to the unfortunate statistic of seventh years addicted to Draught of Peace." Her gaze was both stern and well-meaning.

Rose could barely comprehend how she had gotten into the bed, feeling the world spin like one of those records Granddad Weasley collected in his shed.

Grey records. Grey shed.

She nodded dumbfounded at what had been said, and allowed herself to be escorted out of the cavernous grey room into a wide grey hallway.

On either wall hung grey portraits in grey gilt frames of grey witches and grey wizards in pointed grey hats rounded grey bobs of hair.

The boy beside her was talking, though she just barely managed to catch the words. "...it's so weird to think that we won't have to do these anymore. No more getting back to the common room past midnight and falling asleep on the sofa."

Rose wasn't sure what he was talking about. Had she missed something? Some sort of cue? "Yeah."

The boy accepted her short answer as that of… nostalgia? His expression was almost wistful, tracing the grey cracks where they disappeared behind grey tapestries.

"I was telling Lysander the other day, we should pull an all-nighter the day before graduation and walk around the castle. We'll be so busy with the ceremony in the morning, and then we've got awards in the afternoon and - have you started your speech yet?"

What speech? He was looking at her so intently she decided to go with the affirmative again. "Yeah."

He smiled, and the indentation of a dimple was visible under twinkling blue eyes. "I though so. Every time I think I've got a solid start, it sounds cheesy and redundant. Mum says it's amazing how people can talk for hours on end without saying anything. D'you remember when we watched the old tapes of Rufus Scrimgeour when he was sworn in, and he had some assistant pull a filibuster for eighteen hours? And that was because Scrimgeour couldn't find the notes for his speech and oh _Merlin _it was such a mess."

He shook his head as he laughed, and the gesture was so familiar she had to stop for a second. The way his straw-coloured hair fell into his forehead._ I've seen him do that before._

The boy kept walking, and seeing as she couldn't remember where they were, Rose followed him.

"How does your speech start? I won't steal the idea, I just want to have an idea of what I should be saying, and also so I don't steal it." He looked at her expectantly, waiting for a response. Wanting something. She had the urge to kneel in front of him, as though she had done that before with this boy.

Rose began to fabricate her lie, based on what context she had picked up. "Er - I just talk about it being sad that we're leaving."

The boy tilted his head in approval. "Is your whole speech going to be sad and weepy? Because then I could start mine off on a happier note."

Rose decided that would be fine. He commenced a series of potential hooks for his speech while they rounded the corner, simultaneously checking for students out of bed.

"We came to this school seven years ago, some of us barely knowing what magic was - no, that feels like a jab at the Muggle-borns. Maybe I should do that thing McGonagall does, where she repeats the same word every time she starts a sentence… that's always effective. Seven years ago, we came to Hogwarts, with only a vague understanding of what magic was. No, that doesn't sound right either. Should I say we came to Hogwarts? We… entered Hogwarts, started Hogwarts, began Hogwarts, arrived at Hogwarts…" The rambling, grey rambling, was familiar. She had heard this boy ramble before. Rose had a feeling she was known for her problem-solving skill set; that must be why there was a Head Girl badge pinned to the front of her robes. _Think, Rose._

She lapsed into deep, grey silence while they carried on with rounds. It was all so familiar. She had walked these halls for seven years - seven grey years - and had done so with this boy. The Head Boy badge gleamed while she stared, transfixed.

Rose tried to recall the day her owl had brought the letter announcing her Head Girl status.

_Josephine had flown through the bay window in the sitting room and landed magnificently in the center of the mahogany table. She had eaten something sweet, with a slight tang. Toast with orange marmalade. There had been a boy sitting with her. A grey boy with thick, curly hair desperately in need of a cut. Hugo. Her… brother. _Rose felt a sense of panic rise within her. Why had it taken so long to come to that conclusion? He had been her brother for years. Fifteen years. Fifteen grey years.

Rose narrowly avoided the statue of the one-eyed witch as they took the stairs back to the… Heads' dormitory? _I should not feel this accomplished walking back to the room I've lived in for eight months now._

As the stairs connected to the landing with a thud, Rose, so caught up in her realizations, walked right into the boy. He whirled around in a flash and grabbed her hand, yanking her towards him before she could fall back into thin air. The staircase had already moved to another landing.

"Thank you… Lorcan." It felt familiar and foreign all at once, resting on her tongue.

"You're welcome, Rose." Assuming she was fine to walk on her own, he proceeded down the next set of hallways, empty except for a wall occupied by suits of armor similar to those flanking the entrance to the Great Hall.

Rose had the urge to jump in fright. Lorcan was waiting for her to do so. "The Gryffindor in you is jumping for joy," he said wryly. "You've finally overcome the irrational fear of immobilized knights."

Her tense shoulders relaxed slightly. _So that random paranoia wasn't random at all._

Lorcan opened three cupboard doors at once. All were proof of bare space reserved for snogging, judging by the lipstick imprinted on the brick.

Rose had the strangest feeling she'd been in a compromising position there. Swallowing, she stepped forward to inspect.

"You can try Homenum Revelio, but I doubt you'll find anything more than a few dust motes trying to shag in peace."

"Hold on." With her index finger, she outlined the pouty, coral pink lips stained in disgrace. She didn't wear lipstick. And she would have to be a few inches shorter, to press her lips there in imitation.

Lorcan walked up behind her, able to see the bright, tainted space. "It's beautiful artwork. Simple, yet timeless. Lipstick in a Broom Cupboard. No, no, no, wait. Trouble in Paradise. Oil? Do they make lipstick with oil? Not oil, beeswax. And dozens of other chemicals that make your lips all dry." He scrutinized the offending mark, as though it had prompted his sudden launch into the ethics of manufacturing the cosmetic product. "Er, Rose?"

"I've been here," she said, eyes darting from the door to Lorcan's sheepish expression. "Recently."

Clearing his throat, he averted his own eyes to the floor. "On patrols?"

Rose shook her head. She was oblivious to Lorcan's mortification.

"With Keegan, then?"

"Who's Keegan?" she asked. Judging from how quickly his face morphed from uncomfortable to troubled, she was supposed to know the answer.

"Your boyfriend," he answered.

Rose was unconvinced. "I don't think so."

"What do you mean, you don't think so? You've been dating for six months."

"But… I just saw him this morning." Lorcan closed the door to the cupboard, and with a flick of his wand, the tip was alight and examining her face. Rose was pale and her surroundings were grey under the illumination.

"Rose, are you having me on?" Lorcan's thick blond eyebrows creased together, and he placed the back of his hand against her forehead. "You're cold as ice."

"Grey ice." He brought her to a window, where the moonlight filtered through.

"Rose, if you're taking the piss out of me, you're doing a very good job of it. Who's Keegan?"

"Are you Keegan?"

Grey eyebrows and grey hair and grey tie and grey skin and suddenly everything faded to grey.

* * *

When she woke, there were voices scattered about the room. Voices she couldn't quite place, though they sounded the slightest bit familiar. Grey voices.

Her eyes adjusted to the grey darkness becoming grey lightness. She couldn't quite figure out why she was here, why they all sounded so worried? Were they worried for her?

"She's come to," said one of the grey voices, attached to a grey woman a little taller than the curtains around her bed. Her hair was dark and fell lusciously about her shoulders. Though very beautiful, her face held an apprehensiveness that made Rose feel as though she had done something wrong. Her fist curled around the bed sheets.

"There's no need to panic," the woman said. "My name is Astoria Malfoy, and I am an Obliviator from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."

"Hello," she said, feeling her cheeks burn with bashfulness. Her hand unfurled itself from the linen and shook Astoria's elegant, manicured hand. "H-how did I get here? Where's Madam Bones?"

"Madam Bones is currently speaking with your parents and uncle about what happened. I want you to try as hard as you can to tell me how you got here."

Rose's eyebrows creased together. _Think_. "I was - I haven't been feeling too well this past month, so Lorcan suggested we come… here. I took some Draught of Peace, and then we walked back to the… to the common room. We patrolled at the same time, and… started talking."

"What about?"

"My uncle's an Auror. Shouldn't I talk to him first?" Astoria held up a hand placatingly. _I've seen that before._ "All in due time. Normally, I erase memories of magic and our world from Muggles so no wizard is in violation of the International Statute of Secrecy. But it would seem that someone has already done the Obliviating."

"Quite right," said Harry Potter, as he drew back the curtains around her bed. "Including a rather tricky Memory Modifying Charm, or some variation thereof." His green gaze slid to Astoria, who nodded.

"I don't have the authority to ask questions, but I should be able to verify whether or not your memories have been altered or erased."

Her uncle cleared his throat and began. "What did you learn about in Charms last Wednesday?"

Her answer was automatic. "Professor Oddpick had begun N.E.W.T.s review. Going over the syllabus and handing out practice tests."

Harry looked down at the file in his hand and arched an eyebrow. "What about Transfiguration?"

"Essentially the same. Reviewing old assignments. He would pick random concepts we had learned in previous years and have us complete a transfiguration before the end of the period."

"You're mistaking Potions lesson plans for Transfiguration." She had never seen his expression so disapproving, not since Albus and she had set the shed on fire in third year.

Rose shook her head, hoping that by the time she looked back at him, his dissatisfied mien would be gone. "I - sorry. I have Potions before and that's after."

"So you do. According to the attendance sheets from Professors Oddpick, Denbright, and Farley, you were absent for all those periods on Wednesday."

"I… I was?"

"Yes. When you came to class on Friday, following that schedule, you told them you were sick and needed to lie down in the Heads dormitory."

Rose thought back distinctly to that day. If she had been sick and resting in her bedroom, how had she known the lesson plan?

"I spoke to Lorcan about this. His free period coincides with the Charms class you missed, and he reports returning to the Heads dormitory, alone. There was no one in your bedroom, bathroom, or sitting room."

A rising sense of panic was back. "I don't - I don't know. I would never miss class a-and my attendance has been perfect all y-year!" Her eyes had grown moist and tears were coursing down her cheeks. Astoria conjured a handkerchief, and she dabbed at the wetness as sobs built in her throat.

Harry shook his head sadly. "You missed those three classes on Wednesday, and skipped Arithmancy on Friday. Your friends and boyfriend have said you've been disappearing during breaks, mealtimes, and come late to class." He placed a comforting hand on his niece's shoulder. "As Head Girl, the staff can excuse you for performing your duties or assisting a teacher. But you have given no viable excuses in the past five weeks, and are almost consistently tardy."

Rose could only cry into the linen, with her uncle's hand resting on her shoulder, and Astoria's hand holding hers for strength. Merlin knew she didn't have any at this point; when had the world become so grey?

"Albus told me that he rarely ever sees you except for class, and even then, you don't seem like you're there." Her wonderful cousin, always watching out for her.

"I don't believe any of this is self-inflicted. The Forgetfulness Charm is incredibly difficult to master and manipulate towards oneself." Astoria rose from her chair beside the bed and gestured to Harry that they ought to leave. "It could only be the work of an upper-level student or professor-"

"For what purpose?"

Astoria sighed. "I'm not sure. I would need her parent's approval before I use Legilimency or extract her memories into a Pensieve. If I focused on a specific day - Wednesday, perhaps - I could corroborate what her peers and professor have said about the absence. With any luck, her memories should determine her whereabouts similar to Muggle film footage - choppy and spliced. Thoughtlessly edited."

"And that will show us who is behind it?" Harry's wide green eyes did little to conceal the glimmer of hope shared by Rose while she sniffled into the handkerchief.

"Most likely, yes."

"When would be an ideal time to do that?"

Astoria chewed the inside of her cheek. The gesture was peculiar on her noble face. "Whenever I am called to the scene of a Muggle, or group of Muggles who have witnessed something magical, they are usually given dose of Draught of Peace before and after their memories are wiped so they will remain calm. Similarly, Rose's memories were erased and modified, and then she was given Draught of Peace. I imagine her confusion after taking the Draught might have lessened somewhat, but if anything its effect was nulled. It impacted the reliability of both her short and long term memory, and thus the tumult caused her collapse. She has had only a few hours to rest, so I recommend that we give her the night to completely relax, and finish our investigation tomorrow."

Harry shook her hand with a smile. "Thank you, Astoria. We're very grateful for the help."

"It's no problem, Mr. Potter." Her uncle swooped down to give her a hug, and headed for the doors.

Astoria remained by her bedside, handing her the trademark striped infirmary pyjamas. "Your parents were here, but it's best if they come back tomorrow once we're done sorting through your memories."

Rose nodded, and discarded her robes to pull the pyjama shirt over her head, and slip on the pants and woolly socks.

Mrs. Malfoy's figure retreated to the Matron's office, her navy blue robes swishing against the floor.

With a sigh, Rose climbed back into bed, using her wand to mutter a sleepy, "_Nox_." The overhead light turned off with a buzz, and her thoughts subsided to grey slumber.

* * *

As a child, Rose had never been impervious to noise as her brother was in the night. Anything creaking, cracking, scraping, or sliding always forced her eyes open to inspect.

More often than not, it was Josephine at the window or her parents talking downstairs. Seeing as she was alone in the infirmary, save for Madam Bones, the rhythmic sound of footsteps belonged to neither an owl nor her parents.

Still half-asleep, she reached for the nightstand to grab her wand. It could very well be Madam Bones, but unless the school was under attack or burning down, the Matron would leave her to recover as instructed.

Her hand knocked over the wand at the same time the curtain opened. Rose's vision focused on a figure six feet tall, with pale skin, platinum blond hair and -

"Miss me, Rose?"

Grey eyes.

* * *

**A/N: I hadn't intended on writing anything super smutty, so that's why I didn't elaborate on their activities, for lack of a better word. Also, reception in the UK is like kindergarten if you're from the U.S. like me and realize that not everything is the same. I hope you enjoyed reading this long overdue update from me, which will remain completed. I don't really have anything to continue on with this one; the ending basically speaks for itself. Please tell me what you think (I always reply to comments and love and appreciate them!) and check out some of my other Scorose stories. Thx!**


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